


roy's at a party he doesn't wanna be at

by mustardbastard



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Humor, Frat Parties, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Science Pick-Up Lines, a little bit of, authors first forray into porn in YEARS, baby amounts of porn, blow jobs in bathrooms, but like, happy pride month have some porn, this is rly just almost 3k of garbage sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustardbastard/pseuds/mustardbastard
Summary: much like everything else in roy's life, the blame lies with maes.but roy doesn't think he's so inclined to be mad at him this time.





	roy's at a party he doesn't wanna be at

**Author's Note:**

> honestly idk what this even is  
> like I got the vague idea for it after listening to a few songs?? & then it eventually started writing itself but quickly spiraled out of control as things tend to do w me. but also just,, I literally haven't written anything smut like in YEARS, the last time being a scene in a Voltron fic I never finished. so im rly Rusty but also am a fucking bottle of olive oil with no concept of desire for physical contact so like....... the porn's probably Bad, sorry. but practice ig?? [yeets weakly]  
> ive been working on this for hours and at this point there's rly nothing more i can do to improve it so just fckuing take it. please.
> 
> ed's like 20-21 in this & roy's like,, 26? & in grad school.
> 
> title shamelessly stolen from ed Sheeran & jb's 'I don't care'
> 
> (I had to look up so many physics pickup lines for this & I almost fucking failed that class in high school lol so I don't understand shit)
> 
> edit: I CANT BELIEVE I POSTED FUCKING PORN ON THE FIRST DAY OF PRIDE MONTH JKSFGKDSJGFKDJF IM AN IDIOT.........

What is Roy even doing here?

 

He should be at home―well, the dismal little apartment he _calls_ home, at least―preparing lessons for the first day of class tomorrow, not hanging around at a party in a frat house, surrounded by drunk or high, or honestly probably both, undergrads―many of whom, Roy even doubts are legal to be so.

 

But, much like all situations Roy finds himself in that he doesn't wish to be, it's all Maes's fault. His best friend had thought Roy was a little tense lately and took it upon himself to kidnap Roy and drag him here to 'let loose'―"and who knows, maybe you'll even meet the One" Maes's voice mocks in his head―before absconding with Roy's keys and wallet, leaving him with no way home.

 

Damn Maes and all his ploys to try and get Roy to meet someone. Just because he found Heaven in his relationship with his girlfriend Gracia doesn't mean Roy will ever do the same with someone else. As much of a romantic Roy can be sometimes, he's also a pragmatist, and he's never been one for believing in things like soulmates or 'the One' anyway.

 

There's not even any good alcohol here―just cheap beer and shitty vodka and―are those cans of _4 Loko_ Roy sees?

 

Goddamnit Maes.

 

He sighs and finishes off the dregs of his warm, terrible, _cheap_ beer, tossing the plastic red cup into the nearest trash bin. Red solo cups at a frat party, what a cliche. Roy huffs and rolls his eyes. He thinks Maes's mentioned something about dancing; maybe he'll find his best friend on the dance floor and be able to convince him to let Roy go home, where he can drink _good_ alcohol, in peace.

 

Yeah, Roy doubts that either.

 

But still, he makes his way towards where the main congregation of people are, a mass of bodies drunkenly writhing to the music blaring through the speakers, hands in the air and heads bobbing back and forth.

 

It is here, in the thick of it all, that Roy spots him as he forces his way through the crowd.

 

Not his best friend, no. But a blond vision dressed all in black, looking like pure sin personified.

 

He's got on leather pants with fishnet-lined rips down the front of his— _long, lean_ —legs that look so tight it's a wonder that he can barely _move_ , much less dance like the way he is currently, and boots with wedge heels so thick he's either insecure and compensating for his height or wanting shoes that could knock a man out with one swift kick to the head. His shirt, if it can even be called that, just covers the upper portion of his chest, leaving his― _gloriously toned and smooth,_ oh how Roy wants to run his hands down it―abdomen bare, while the one sleeve snakes down his right arm like a glove made of ink. The silver chains hanging from his belt-loops swish back and forth as he dances, much like the golden locks that are tied up into a whip-like ponytail that makes Roy's mouth simultaneously dry and water at the thought of gripping it.

 

He looks exactly like Roy's favorite brand of trouble.

 

If Eve felt half as much temptation while in the garden as Roy does now looking at the blond, then he can't say that he blames her for eating the apple.

 

Well. Maybe he won't meet 'the One' tonight, but Roy can at least meet _someone_.

 

Roy moves closer and then he’s standing in front of the blond. The blond doesn’t even notice him at first, swaying to the beat with his eyes closed. Roy still feels out of place here, too old and too tired—not that he’s _old_ , mind you—but he starts dancing anyway, quickly picking up the rhythm. Based on the appreciative looks he receives from the others around them, he hasn’t lost his touch. He smirks just slightly at the attention, but the smirk grows wider and he has to stifle a snort when he sees the words written on the blond’s shirt.

 

_I might be a physics major, but I’m no Bohr in bed._

 

Cute, but is he actually smart enough to be a physics major or is the blond just trying to impress others?

 

Obviously, there’s only one way to test this.

 

Roy leans in from where he’s currently dancing close behind him, mouth just far away enough from the blond’s ear to not be seen as creepy and says, “Heisenberg was wrong—I’m certain about what you’re doing tonight.” A little sleazy and strong, but to be fair, most physics puns are.

 

The blond cracks open an eye—a deep, _brilliant_ gold—and gives Roy an assessing look over his shoulder. Roy must measure up to whatever standards he has, for the next thing Roy knows, the blond is moving back, closer to Roy, and _grinding_ into Roy with an ass that’s apparently as tight as it looks. God, Roy hopes this person is legal.

 

“Top quark or bottom quark?” the blond asks, voice low and smoky in a way that goes right to Roy’s groin.

 

Lord help him.

 

Roy shrugs, though he doubts the blond notices and lightly places his hands on the other’s hips, fingertips barely brushing his hip bones. “I’m pretty flexible either way. Care to test the spring constant of my mattress and make some data?”

 

The blond laughs, a deep throaty sound, just shy of braying. He turns around, letting the full force of his gaze upon Roy. Roy feels trapped, mesmerized in the way a deer is when looking into the eyes of a predator.

 

“Shit, that was so fucking bad, dude. You probably don’t even have a room here—you don’t seem stupid and douchey enough to be a frat boy.”

 

Roy smiles wryly. “Yes, well, I do have to admit my frat days are far behind me. And I hope I’d be a little classier than to fool around in some stranger’s bedroom where I don’t even know if the sheets are clean.”

 

He snorts. “Lucky for you, I don’t care about shit like that.” The blond steps closer, not even an inch of space between their bodies, the air charged between them, and Roy feels positively _electric_. He puts his hands on Roy’s shoulders, and whispers into his ear. “Wanna find a room with a working lock and see about that ‘data’?”

 

Oh, _does_ he.

 

Roy murmurs his assent, and then the blond is pulling back from Roy’s grasp, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the crowd. He may have only had one beer, not even enough to get him tipsy, but Roy feels dazed in a way that he only is when he’s drunk. The allure of this man is purely magnetic and Roy is helpless to stop himself from falling under his spell.

 

They find themselves nearly running up the stairs, laughing as they go, and stumble into the first room that opens for them.

 

Roy doesn’t even have a chance to turn the light on before the blond is slamming the door shut and locking it—and then pushing Roy back against it, pressing up against him and _fucking finally_ they’re kissing.

 

The blond’s lips are soft and plump and fit against Roy’s so perfectly that the romantic in Roy thinks there will never be another who can measure up. It’s hot and heavy and filled with pure carnal _desire_.

 

Roy feels like he’s on fire.

 

One of them, Roy isn’t sure who, maybe it was both of them, gasps for breath, their chests heaving, and then there’s the slide of the blond’s tongue against Roy’s and _holy fuck_ he has a tongue piercing. The revelation causes Roy’s blood to rush south and his erection strains painfully against his jeans. Roy’s partner must feel this, because he laughs quietly, running his hand down Roy’s chest, nails scraping through the cotton, until he reaches Roy’s groin where he cups and _squeezes_. Roy hisses, air whooshing between his lips in one low breath.

 

“Like my piercing, do you?” the blond murmurs against Roy’s lips, hand resting lightly, _teasingly_ against his erection. Roy’s hips jerk involuntarily in an attempt to gain more friction—anything other than this _damnable_ feather light touch. “Ah, ah, down boy.” He nips Roy’s bottom lip and Roy is mere moments away from begging. Someone, God, please, just _touch_ him already. “I’m not a DNA helicase, but can I unzip your genes anyway?” The lights are still off but Roy can see the flash of white of the blond’s grin. Shit-eating, Roy’s sure.

 

“ _Fuck_ —yes,” Roy manages to get out, barely stopping the ‘please’ from tumbling out of his mouth.

 

The blond squeezes again and then he’s sinking, down, down, _down,_ until he’s on his knees on the floor, unzipping Roy’s jeans and pulling them down with his boxers. His erection springs free from the confines of his pants and Roy almost sobs in relief. But then he’s having to stop himself from sobbing in pain because the blond is lightly dragging his nails down the length of Roy’s cock, maddeningly teasing. There’s an experimental lick on the underside of the shaft, a quick flick of the tongue, and Roy lets out a broken plea.

 

And then the next thing Roy knows is that there’s a warm _wet_ heat surrounding the head of his cock and Roy’s head is slamming back against the door as he muffles his cries with one hand. The blond’s head is bobbing up and down, and Roy’s other hand snakes into his hair, fingers tangling themselves in the strands and gripping tightly. Roy has just enough restraint to stop himself from yanking the blond’s face closer. But the blond seems to know what Roy craves anyway and swallows Roy down even further, slick and hot and _oh god he doesn’t have a gag reflex_. The metal of his tongue piercing vibrates as the blond hums around Roy’s cock, causing a low moan to slip involuntarily from Roy’s mouth. And Roy would deny this later if anyone were to ever ask him, but when the blond’s hand slides up Roy’s thigh and moves to cup his balls, fingers gently massaging the area behind them, Roy _keens_.

 

There’s so _much_ sensation that Roy’s almost overwhelmed, already on the edge, a familiar heat pooling low in his stomach.

 

But then everything slows down. The blond pulls back, lips letting go of Roy’s cock with an obscene, wet ‘pop’, and he lightly squeezes Roy’s balls once in warning. “Not yet, physics man,” he says, voice hoarse.

 

Roy more than kind of wants to cry. He’s being driven to the brink of insanity by some minx of an undergrad but he’s loving every second of it.

 

The blond’s comment makes some rational part of Roy’s brain go off, though. He breathes out, “as much as I appreciate the nickname, ‘physics man’ really is a mouthful. Call me Roy.” Congrats Roy, you managed to string together a coherent sentence consisting of more than two words.

 

The blond snorts and replies, “I‘m Ed, if we’re exchanging names and shit,” before taking Roy’s cock in his mouth again. The return of attention to Roy’s neglected member is so blissful that he almost climaxes right then and there.

 

Ed knows what he’s doing, though, and keeps his ministrations tantalizingly slow and light, preventing the release that Roy so desperately wants. It’s Hell and it’s Heaven all at once.

 

The hand that Roy had been using to muffle his cries falls to his side, scrambling uselessly for purchase against the wall while Ed speeds up again, taking Roy further down his throat than he had before, humming and letting out a moan of his own— _that vibrates so fucking wonderfully_ —before sliding back so his lips only cover the head.

 

Roy must accidentally bump into the light-switch because when he opens his eyes—which, when did he even close them?—he can _see_ Ed with his mouth wrapped around Roy’s cock, saliva and precome dripping from his lips in a way that’s practically criminal. Roy loses it near immediately at the sight. He barely has enough forethought to get out a “ _shit_ —Ed—” in warning and attempt to yank Ed’s head back so that he’s not coming in Ed’s mouth. He’s only half successful.

 

When he comes down from his high, vision clearing, he sees Ed licking the corners of his— _swollen, bruised, pink_ —mouth and swallowing. There’s come spattered across one side of Ed’s face, but the little amount of it there is tells Roy that Ed must have swallowed the rest. Roy’s cock twitches at the thought. And he’s hard-pressed to prevent himself from getting hard again at the sight of Ed. Because Ed, with his golden ponytail mussed, nearly falling out, and _smirking_ abused mouth and the dripping evidence of Roy’s release on his face, looks like wicked desire incarnate.

 

Ed stands, stretching as he does so, and Roy’s grabbing a towel off of the counter next to him, getting it wet in the sink—because wouldn’t you know it, they stumbled into a _bathroom_ , of all rooms—before he knows what he’s doing.

 

“Here, let me.”

 

Ed blinks at him, surprise flitting across his face as he glances from the damp towel to Roy’s face. “Ah, thanks?”

 

Roy laughs quietly, using the towel to gently wipe the come off of Ed’s face. “I think it’s only fair that I be the one to clean you up after you gave me what had to be the blow job of my life.”

 

“You could still fuck me, yanno,” Ed flashes a grin at him, which quickly turns smug and self-satisfied. “‘Blow job of your life’, huh?”

 

“I could,” Roy murmurs, “but I don’t think this bathroom is quite suited to what I had in mind for you.” Ed’s cheeks pinken slightly and Roy smirks before continuing, “and yes, I have to admit, your skills with fellatio are quite… mind-blowing.”

 

Ed groans, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Fuck, that was bad. Are you always this awful with puns? What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

 

“To be fair, you _are_ technically the one who started it, with that shirt of yours,” Roy points out.

 

Ed glances down at his shirt and groans again, slapping his hand to his face. “Goddamnit Al, the fuck did you do to my shirt?”

 

Roy raises a brow. “Meddling roommate?”

 

“Nah, just my younger brother. I love him to pieces but then he goes and does shit like this and _ugh_.”

 

A barking laugh escapes Roy. “I understand the feeling all too well. My best friend is the same way—he dragged me here and then left me stranded tonight.” They’re silent for a few moments then, commiserating in the shared pains of annoying loved ones. Roy quietly watches Ed as he fixes his ponytail—which reminds Roy to _discreetly_ zip up his pants—and he wonders. They may not have spoken much, but Roy’s enjoyed what little conversation they have had, and there’s some part of him that’s screaming for Roy to not let Ed walk away.

 

Roy licks his lips nervously, an uncharacteristic habit for him. “Ed, I—would you perhaps be willing to let me take you to dinner sometime?”

 

Ed looks at him from the mirror, squinting. “Aren’t you doing this thing kinda backwards? Like wine and dine and _then_ horizontal tango time?”

 

That’s… not a no, at least not yet. “I suppose so, but I’ve had more fun than I expected to tonight—fun with you. You seem quite smart and you’re able to keep up and _put_ up with my puns and quite frankly you’re gorgeous. I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s alright with you?”

 

Ed turns to look at him head-on, meeting Roy’s eyes. “Shit, you didn’t have to give me a speech or anything. I was gonna say yes, anyway. Dinner sounds fucking great,” he says, and the smile that lights up his face is the softest thing Roy’s seen from him tonight. “Just no fancy schmancy places. They’re too expensive, the food’s usually not that great, and they’re garbage for actually having fun.”

 

Roy laughs as hope unfurls in his chest, warm and tender. “I think I can manage that.”

 

Maybe Maes wasn’t so wrong in making Roy come here tonight after all.

**Author's Note:**

> my fucking apologies for this Hot Steaming Garbage pile again LMAO  
> if u made it this far u've earned my eternal love and virtual cookies  
> pls be gentle w/ me,,,
> 
> anyway it's 6am im gonna go crash now, peace


End file.
